{ title: 'The lake shore news. volume (Wolcott, N.Y.) 1874-1971, November 12, 1874, Page 1, Image 1', download_links: [ { link: 'http://www.loc.gov/rss/ndnp/ndnp.xml', label: 'application/rss+xml', meta: 'News about NYS Historic Newspapers - RSS Feed', }, { link: '/lccn/sn86053181/1874-11-12/ed-1/seq-1/png/', label: 'image/png', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn86053181/1874-11-12/ed-1/seq-1.pdf', label: 'application/pdf', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn86053181/1874-11-12/ed-1/seq-1/ocr.xml', label: 'application/xml', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn86053181/1874-11-12/ed-1/seq-1/ocr.txt', label: 'text/plain', meta: '', }, ] }
Image provided by: Pioneer Library System
r sr \ - ’TJ » 11 S M II1Ï383 li a î 8 ô , I S T £ 3 1 , H 0 O X a . O ^ \ rm m m , » « » \• C Ï » «J?* ,>*■’•* ï .‘f i , ? , ï 7 J M 3 Ü J K i i v V A u V i . . i - » . . h W ' ;..>¡¡ IH:- ; U . L ^üij.-üü;.!'.-.'.i ;•■' f : ..!í ‘ j . kcí >•/ c,'~-r~ i v . r ■:üi arr '¿i.**\*7*'*' -t * s¿\ :t :>* »31 TÜT] ï- -A- * íl lo 3¿ ö , ! ,r:ci‘>7j,í. j , \ .'ìOIJììi Sv-'T'HT ■’) ■ • -V O T - ff J.''íK.i’í f jri:.«:¿ x&%¿. O t í a •i,..-. -^‘V-■?>'■' V ’-■•■' - -• ■ V--U. ■-- DEVOTED TO HOME INTE R E S T S ,;-LITE R A T U R E , AND .G E N E R A ^ IN T E I& ia i}N Ç * .;/:;i , SI J O a Y M r ,ln A (h « n o « . v ; . - n u •• < ï YOL. I. i V.*-: M f &S# O WOLCOTT, W A Y N E CO.. N. *•* { ' f -V ' ’ T *’ i í „ f— :-.a-r.* t i' * j -i*î-.r I* r r> ? Í i.i *ÎV>~ Y.; THURSDAY, j\0VEMBËR12, l*M. * ■.} '■ ....... . *•' * , ... * it / r, « ' j sjj * i t * ,7, -ijT i * 7\ « • îi*/ tc-.x ■» w f 1 be .Skadowad j ; j i 5 > , * * n o > j tli*>liadOir*i laeo ate gOM, fed lior ainiu aro Udeu Pii tlio woodbi'vio and wild roao, Happy litt.Vo waidou ' Swootly, swectly-'dotlTBho ying Ab iho lurk abovo her: purely ovcry living thing » r j- ^•¿yj^a^h«ae‘enmultjlj>v©lie^ j Jj *[ A a “ho atrayocl and rb bIio aung, Happy little maiden, Shadowy.lAnps »lid dell« amonfpf WUi VlUrnd^rH ladon, Chanced a bonny youth that way, %j t Tor- the lanes woro shady'.', v 2 ?She dropped one weo Jtowor, iliey e#y, .£ if «“¿¡d thieUittlc lady:: *! i S <• ’ ¿c. *-* i-X i '!* * vt v a £ , : 2 I j j cv v *.■ Droppod a ilowcr, eo they say, Dropped, and noyor raiswod it; Aud tho youtii, alack-a-duy; v ^ ‘ i*lck6d it' lip^afid kienei ft.\ Ko\v in Hwoot lano waudcringB, WitU Iovo-ilowora ladeu, **, ■f, AViLli lior lovo alie etrayH.audiiuga, r •St -f Happy lililo maiden V * iV * CTltCS r o i t D ’S TEJHTTATIOJi.' A TltANKSQIVINO STOJIV. •:>y“ i 'o n 'l l ; be expecting 'company ’ to- J a i T jir'i»»'.!^ » .!' -Jm,- ---- bimou Clayton looked over tho top ■of tho newspaper ,bo. wan rending, to see his h6utsii£«i',V. „'.'.aUiug .{or answer. “ Wily to-day ?\ he said,,in. a «nrly tone, us if auuo^ed at tho interruption, “ Why to-day, moro tlmu any other day? Do X ever have company V - 'Bnt ^ ia Thanksgiving Day. sir, 1>° never forgave her for nnu'TuoaS iuTua '¡TiTiu tiTiTif \l<m''hrolIir(r TtgrrioBt- his-wiH.\- ‘ .‘ J 'thought' his children w e r e ‘ nil dend,” w « b the reply, 1 N at at all. Mrs. Cameron lives in them, foz porbapskyou^are 'io in g cimt Hinon^ht ycjur own-relativei ? > .»*'• No I I. have no kin ! Thero is no relative of mino witli whom I break ijI'r>;at1. either’on. this ’day. orlany other. ” x'ho newspaper serccn camo between the master of tho liouso and tho old Housekeeper once more, but it could not quite shut from his. oats .tlioVmur- Wur offthe good w:oman^as': sho lcjt tho room : A ,:x. t ’ g . , .i /> ;i •; ' Dear, deiir !/ Wlifiti a.' pity. l ,, And flo rich;, too'!” ' Simon -' Clayton was roused from Jhought by a knock at tho door, and iu answer to his “ Come in,” a lad en- tevod carrying > letter. It wo« a briei lofctor, scarcely more th«n a noto, read- 1 US: “ Dbaji Siiko'n *Ianf dying,' and 1 miiy cHll.jou Bp 'now, _will -ydu givo a lielping hand to my’son who will bring this to you after I.have loft thi« ¡world F i ve.'cliiklren -1 ay Uesideiny'-JiBsbmid it. tho chuichyard,but'my youngest,Cyrus, niy...<yily .cine,, sits¡beside-^m« .wliiie * but Ijy our old-love, Simon, I implore you to help him.' to’ obtain' an honeBt em ployment. I have been a trne wife and a good mother, as far as-I could, Simon, yet on my {deathbed I know that‘ iriy prily iljjrvprwn» given to' you wlion.1 they partea us, and will bo yours i f we meet in another world.. M innie .” There was deep’silence in tho room as Simon Clayton read the lotter, and horwns -forced .to wait many .minutes before' his J voice would obey1 him to ask : “ Your mother is dead?” “ She died.in tho suir nerftsir. ” “ Why BivW‘you,[wii1ied so long to como to^me'?— ' - • ‘ .“ I t took all wo had to.,pay our debts axid;th(^funéralrt‘£pen8es! and I.hád.to work to etinf my traveling money to come from Illinois.” “ Yrou-w«iit employment now ? “ I sliall bo very grateful, sir, i f yon will, help me to find work.” '' “ To-day is a holiday. Yon will be my guest for tho present, and I will see what I can do for you.\ As Simon Clayton spoke, he reached ont-Jjis hand-and touched a b e l l 'npoü thqtáliljj nearfhim.; His houiw;keeper: angwéreíl'th'o'summoñs^ “ Yoü. seo I have company, Mrs. Grey,” ho said, -and the housekeeper wondered at tho change in his faoe and voice,- lacking- all severity, yet * 6 sad. “ You Will liavjo ii room made comfort- atiJe’ for Mr! Ford.” Tho woman courteslcd and was gone, nnd Simon questioned his young guest. His c-yes wero misty moro than once over tho,8trn_ightfqr,\vurd story’ o f priva- tioxi the 1¡oy told, his evident devotion to liis ruother, who had beeu:'widowed whán.;jlie^was a baby. It ,waa not difll- culftb ^fién.thiit.'thé boy, gróhud.dowñ’ poverty,:hí.ii yet a eraving for édñ&- tion, and hadjiroflted by all his mother \-could leach him. ..His very touch upon tho. books on tho table/ his eyes, when they rested upon the well-filled book case, 1 told , the brain hunger better tlmn spoken ’ words. So before.Mrs. Grey called them to dinner, Simon Clayton was planning' tlie lad’a fa ture os} Jus adopted son. |: ' • ¡ a 3 True Thanksgiving fare the kind- hearted housekeeper had prepared-for tho uncxpected'gueet,'and Simón Clay ton’s heart was nearer thankful prayer than it had been for many long yean, as he looked at tlie bright,, gratefnl face opposite to him, am^knew Minnie’s child' looked up to him for kindness and protection. : Before a week had passed, the lad waa entered as a- .student in one o f the pity colleges, living with his new friend. - - 4 “ You had better . call me Unele Simon,” the latter had'said to him, “ for,yonr mother wa* dearer.than a sister toóme¿ my boy, and-if the people who hear you think you are my nephew, leavo all explanations to me.” But the world troubled itself very lit- tlo about Simon Clayton’s new relative, somo of the more kindly-hearted hop in i he would have comfort in the lad, others pitying poor Laura, whose chanco of forgiveness seemed lessened by the arrival of. this hands«Bae boy.. Four years ' glided ;by nnrT*ntfúlly and happily. The stern old man'seemed to renew his youth in his interoouree with the son Minnie had'sent to hia, the talented scholar who was winning college,,jailor», and--who kept .hiau^lf singularly purè ia the whirl o f the' great cit’Tia.vicea: - •* - - •••■ \'7- his c*n9KSrSlt~Gfreenwood, a#w life aad vigor, as C y n a S S Í ? firm stand in his heart. He kept thé boy from tho temptations of viciotis company by Rivisg liim'ifroo pBriliis- Hion to üxtcnd.the hosÿitaiitin» tit his home to his ’ feltaW stOdenta, and thé boy’s owh refined instincts led him to seek only the'association of »entlBtneh, His lovo of animals being discovered; he became the jposSesaor o f a fine horse. He was encouraged to join a boat club; and Simon himself accompanied him to such plaoes of amusement as he desired to ,visi$..^ Jet,,, saddenlf-i lifted from poverty ' t o ! riche«, 5 from bitter . aelf- dooial to an i indulgence,ol every wish; f»o tt tUe_; n.eqpaaitjiof.breaa-jriniiing to the supply o f luxuries, Cyrus Ford was not spoiled. W ith his he/ut full of gratitude, he .looked'u g ^ c ^ w ^ l«. opppttunitia.Sj fer ’improveflient- m - i-prepaoitidn^fof mate- ing his own way in the world. E e was studying law, aud ho studied with the thought that his daily bread would soon depend \upon his legal knoVïedge. The idea,of ever inheriting any portion tion of the'wealth tliat waa smoothing his path lin.-.college, -never ^presented itsolf to-his mind, and his most con stant thought o f future prosperity, rest ing upon his own oxortions, was. the hope of one day proving his gratitude by repaying thom oneyjpent so freely for him, though hé could never by a' lifetimo of devotion roturn tho fatherly! ,VysA.T.y,-\..V' n¿Uflw*J<T.\:«lmt t :pon bira;—' H e had heard of Laura Clayton from one of those, dear friends, who trv to poisou all li^ppiness by' aiitioipationa of ¡misery. -, • ,, j -, .. •V You had better keep ’on-‘th e ’ right side of;your-nucle by novér oontradict- ing him,” 'this friend had told’him; î ‘he was awfully fond of his daughter, but marrying a little room iu Pearl street, aud rnns a sowing lunohino for\a living. SUo lias ono daughter, but all the rest of her children are dead. Hard linos, ain’t it, sewing f o r ’a living when her father is rolling-in wealth. ” . | ; “ In Pearl street!” ’ ’ V 'v “ Yes.‘ Slie makes my . shirts,' so I keep her address.\ Sho is at No. — Pearl.” The conversation left a doep impres sion upon Cyrus Ford. Onco, in tho generous im p u re of youth, ho had ap proached the subject with his adopted uncle, but he was so sternly silonccd that he never dared speak again tho name of the disobedient daughter. In October, when his tweiity-iirst birth- day'came,,Simon Clayton led the young man ono morning to his library. “ Cyrus,” ho said, “ you area man to day/ and you have. a right to know; what are my.intentions regarding you! In tlie course of the next year you will be admitted to tho bar,- aud I shall, make yon the agent of my property. To gether we will go over all my invest ments, and you will be ablo to reliove mo of some burden of care, as well to learn_where your own property will one day lie. .-For to-day- I make my will, and!you w ill be|my solo 'lieir., N o t ' a word !• -Your mbther gave !yon t o ' me I Be my loving son, Cyrus, it is all I ask of you.” “ Your daughter ” — “ N o t a word of her! She-died to mo,fourteen years ago.” '.T h e tone'was so stern, ’ Cyrus could only bow his head in' silenco, and regis ter a .vow in his heart that his life service should never waver toward his benefactor. • It^aeeQs a sudden adoption when told in the limits of my Htory,' but, in truth, it was'rio caprico'tliat influenced Simon Clayton in his resolve. During four years of constant intercourse, he Btudicd Cyrus Ford with the close scrutiny of a stern nature, soured by many disappointments, and. keenly alive to every defect.iii human naturo. H e found in his closest study of tho young proiegec,so unexpectedly placed in his care, no deceit, no time serving, no servility. . An .honorable ambition,- a ree^ectful gratitude that ..was uovor favdring nor'cringing; and1 upright in tegrity, and a clone attention to the studies that wero ..no child’s task for country-bred brains, all wakened tho respect of the old man. His lovo was moro easily won. Minnie’s son; look ing into his face with Minnie’s great, tender eyes, moved his heart to affec tion before the first'hour of intercourse was'over'; and, onco given, the affec tion nover wavered, growing stronger with every day’s intercourse, till the gnawing- pain for liis own boys gone was lost in - the love for tho son sent to comfort his old- age. Thanksgiving came again—tho fourth since Cy^us Ford camo;to Cli.vton— and w ith 'it'ca m o a'sorrow .' For\ tho first time in his life, Simon Clayton folt the pressure of- physical pain. . H e had been a model;of, manly strength during the entire sixty years of his life, but some unwonted exposure had bronght on an attaok .of- fever that, setting its fangs deepin th’a strong frame, brought it very nigh tho grave. C.vrus had been watching all night when Thanksgiving Day dawned, clear and bright, though the first fall of snow lay upon the streets. -The invalid, turning restlessly upen the pillow, spoke of some un finished business his illness had de layed, and. seemed to have his . intellect clearer than it had been ’.before during his illaess. I wish yon would call upon Hos kins this morning, Cyrus,” he said. “ I want him to understand about the lease of those Grand street stores, before the last o f . the month. - You have the papers ready A ll ready, sir. But are you well enough for me to leave you ?” /‘ Tea. I ; shall feel better when that is settled.” I t was • relief to be out in the crisp, oold air, after the long confinement in a close room, and Cyrus felt light hearted in a certainty that his friend better. Surely this attention to busineaa waa' a good symptom, and the fever waa oertainly gone. Mr s .' Grey was a good none, and there.was no., ea- ptcuil' hurcy f so,.after settling the busineaa- with Hoakins, Cynu oame leisurely from the office of the latter, gatherings*-..OyttU ttas ihiftking oi the! day fottr yean ago, when he cade: friendless and lonely to the great uity,; whMj.fnat befote hua, g i t f h i f t y ljg past with »la r g e bdndl* slipped upon the froeen pavement, and fell heavily to tho ground.-i In a moment; Cyrus waa bending over -her, helping - he* to' rise; but her ankle, was'sprained, and she would have fallen again but for his arm.-v-' ^ - -••• -i ii “ I am afraid you cannot walk,” he said,.kindly, noting with deep pity-her thin ’ garments, her pinohed features, and the look of pain upon her faoe. “ I must.try,” she answered, stooping to secure the big bundle.- ^; ‘ 1 i -“ Lean upon me,” he said,\ taking the .burden frem her. “ You cannot,” he saidi as the effort t o , put. the, injured foot down brought an ashy -palenbss to. her very lips. “ I will call a cab.” “.No, no,! I-have nomoney,!’’ Again tho deathly pallor gathered on oheek and lips, till Cyrus lifted her gently into tho cab that oame at his ¡call. • w “ Where shall I tako you?” he asked. . ... _. “ To No.^—,. Pearl stroet,” .. ^ Directing the cabman, Cyrus got into the cab, with a faoe,almost as.pale as the one '.beside'^ him. The'.number was the same his friend had mentioned . as the address of Simon Clayton’s JMBgtitor, and, looking attentively uu- dor the shabby bonnet, Cyrus saw that the faco, pale and thin, was yet that of a child of not more than thirteen sum mers. When■' tlie eab stopped’'before the 'tall, narrow tenement -house,* the young man lifted his charge in his strong arms, and, bidding her hold fast to the big bundle, oarried-her to the room to wliioh she directed him. ‘ - .ll-^ar-w peor-rootn,-3lMtbby. to._tli* extrpmo.of.shabbiness,' with -- no roman tic air of poverty, but tho renl grinding facts of extreme penury staring the be holder in the face., A woman, palo aud omaciatcd,' was' stitching upon a sewing machine, but camo forward trombling when Cyrus entered with the child. ' ' - « ' ’• ! “ Do not be frightened,” ho said, gently; “ it is only a sprained ankle. I will send you a doctor, if you will tell me for whom ho is. to inquire.” “ .Mrs..Cameron. .O, Doliie, child are you vory much hurt ?” “ My foot aches,” tho child said.-; “ but tho gentleman has boen so kind ! The work is here, mother.” “ I will send a doctor,\ Cyrus said, hastily putting the child upon the bed, “ ho:hacWbettcr come at onoe. ” > l ’iio fatherly love tbat-^Biuson’-Clay-' “Vp B m l « t j ¡ \ l t waa full ' « f : -botóíay ton had thought buried in tb* gravea of. i n k i n , *tâ iko g lofti aad aalea women ia- t W r b «rt attire goU g to fam ily As ho s])oke, he slipped a note ‘ for fifty dollars into Dollio Cameron’s hand, and left the room beforo she could speak. It was too bitter. He coujd not realize it at.once, but, the cruel Truth pressed harder-.'and harder as he neare'd home. This was the child aud grandchild of Simon Clayton, starviug in an attio, ,while he command ed their rightful inheritance. Mrs. Grey met him at tho door with a pale, frightened-face. There.had been ;a snddon chango for the worse 9ince he had ^ loft, and • Simon Clayton was siuking fast. \ \Hurrying to |the room, Cyrus found < the nows only ..too true. ' Eagerly the dying man welcomed him. He had forgotten all business cares, bnt ho craved tho lovo of his adopted son. “ I t 'is Thanksgiving day,” - he said, when they had talked a little while, “ tho day foi the forgiveness of inju ries.-' Cyras,\ I would I . knew \where Laura is to-day.. I have destroyed all letters from her, lost all clew to her. She may .-be poor, -Cyrus. She may long for her fathor's forgiveness. My poor Laura ! I had never crossed her, Cyrus, and sho did not think I ' would bo unforgiving. I could dio easier i f I could tell her that I forgive her.” , Cyrus did not speak. Literally he oould not. All that those few gasping words implied pressed upon his brain with relentloss clearness. Laura at home,' Laura forgiven, meant the loss 'of all tlie fair inheritance now his own. Do not j udge him-too harshly^ A fierce tomptntion olutched heart' and brain. There was no active crime to bo com mitted. Only a few. hoars silence, and tho vast wealth which he bad virtually controlled for a fow short weeks would be all his 'own'. He' could provide handsomely for.th e widow and-her child when he was tlio heir, and he was surely better fitted to manage a great estate than a weak woman. Simon’ Clayton did'' not'notice ‘ the silenco that fell upon tho room while Cyrus wrestled with tho bitter tempta tion in his heart. H e was very weak,,, and*'time was short for” prayer and preparation for etornity, so the silence suited him well. Bnt when the very sound of his breathing was audible in the stillness, ho sighed, as if from a breaking heart, “ M y poor Laura!” Like clouds dispersed by sunlight, the shodows’ of evil .sped from : Cyrus Ford’s heart. “ Undo Simon,” he cried, ‘.‘ I can bring Laura to you, i f you wish.” Tho dying man expressei no surprise. The end was too near for that . I t seemed nothing strange to him that his strong dying wish should be answered. “ You can find her? Bring her quickly, Cyrus, or you will be too late. But before yon go, give me my desk, and send Mrs. Grey to me.” - “ Shall I open yonr desk ?” , “ Yes ; I only want my wilL She is my only'child, Cry us,” he said, plead ingly. . “ And if this is destroyed ahe will have her rightful inheritance,” said Cyrus. “ Shall I lay it here on the live eoala i ” ■' -■ “ Yea.. - God will give me aa hoar or two more ef life.' Bum it, Oyrus, and aend at onoe for-Hr. Pearsons.” So, while the flame« curled over thfj paper that would have .made^him mas ter of nearly» million dollars/Cynui Ford statted to bring Laura .Cameron' to her-father, and aent his lawyer to the dying maB. ;B a t few words suSoed to explain his errand. Doliie was eare- fully earned to the reasyvoarriage' in waiting'' and a fte r \ « 'lo n g drive the atately house waa reached when twilight was aettling over the great eity. fit 'waa lhdroughly'in keaping- with tha dalioato - i a a h net s p f~ Cyras J o r d 's' ofcan etec that S i aent Laara alone to her fathsr. whil« ha oainiad Doliie into tha patloc, aid M l i k i upon a ’aofa; Tha- grave,~ p »ie ehild .looked-earneatly.in hia faoti.!.. . \ Do you liVe liei' 0 ,.*itli my grand- fatHei? she il#ked.J’Y , / “ I have lived here for four yoars. I ate my first meal here on Ttia'nkBgiving Day four yeara ago.\ :. , ., ii.; “ Thanksgiving Day 1 W « meant to make a’ little holiday,,-'too; but I ' was not paid for the work 1'took home, and, I hurt'my foot. - I was not in- a Very thankful frame of mind, before I met you,-aud you were aokind and-ao gen erous 1” ........... . , ■' “ I hope this willbe the first of many thankful davs for' you,” he - answered. “ Your mother will nqt leave her home again, 1 trust ?”, . .., i t ; - f ,. There waa_. still .tt£pnig. talk before they, were summoneoio thesickroom. Here ihe reconciliation had been per fect, and Doliie’ was'placed in an arm chair where her grandfather oould look upon her face., “ Yon will trust everything to Cyrus, Laura,” her'father' said. ' “ He knows how allmy property • is invested. Oyrus, you .will be faithful to .my cw id?” , x “ God ’deal with me as 1' am faithful to yonr trnst,” was the solemn reply.’ ' ..- Before-midnight,.^ surrounded'.by those he loved, Simon Clayton, died. Not until three daj-g later, when the funeral was over, did Cyrus know that M r.--Pam oii hid- m.irhr^rTOt while he'was seeking Laura Cameron; By this will he became heir,, to half, of Simon Clayton’s estate, the other half and all personal propierty becoming Laura’s. ■ \ 1 My story mav not end here. Five years later, on thanksgiving Day, there was a wedding in the house where Simon Ciayton .had spent so many lonely days, -and .'.tha bridegroom was 'the _rising young lawyerTCyriis ford , who wmWo’d\ tho grandchild of .his benefactor,.sweet Dollio Cameron. • The Yalae of Fish-Food. Many elaborate' comparisons ha’vo boon made as to the comparative food- values o f - butcher-meat and fish, and occasional controversies have arisen on tho subject,_ in which the utmost di versity of opinion lias been expressed. Some eoonomic writers maintain that fish has.no food-value werth speaking o f ; others say that fish-fbód must oc cupy a middle position\ between vege tables’ and beef and mutton.' Again, a learned, authority says that fish, well cooked, with oil or fat of some kind, or served with butter when brought to table, “ is chemically the salmo as' butcher-meat, so far as nntrition is con cerned.” Another writer says that fish as food is only fit for ohildren and in-, valids, and is totally unfitted to sup port tho health and vigor of men or women engaged in laborious ooonpa'- tions. As usual in. such disputes, we may hold that the truth lies betwoen the two' extremes. Many peoplo fol-| lowing laborious occupations, especially in 3ootland, live largely upon fish. In that oountry, the fishermen themselves eat a considerable portion, and,-1 as a class, fishermen are strong and healthy; and the wives, who undertake a portion; of the men’s work, are still‘ stronger and healthier. In Portugal, fish fried in oil forms a very large proportion of the food of the'population ; their fish- diet is supplemented by a little bread and fruit, and although the peasantry1 of the land never partake of flesh meat, yet they are a hardy, vigorous, and bravo people. Lot it be remembered that fish is a neoessity of life in Franoe and Si>ain, and as regards the latter oountry, a constant organization is at work in our own islands to supply it with many kinds of curcd' fish. A huge portion/of the pilchards taken,on the coast of .Cornwall, as well as many hun dred hogsheads of cured and smoked herrings, are sent to the Spanish mar kets. -' How fo Get • Wife. A California correspondent of,, the New York Times shows how John Chi naman manages thomatrimoniallottery: A Chinaman in want of a wife scrapes together his wages and sonds the amount home, generally to his father or mother, with the order for a wife, and thoy'go into the market and make the best bargain they can, according to the money to be invested. Sometimes tlio amount is small, and a really,first- class article cannot be had for the sum, but the old woman goncrally do4s her' best'and ships ovor the woman con signed,to her son, who meets her'at the steamer with, his bill of lading, pays freight* .and charges, and taket his property. I f ’ any of jo u r readers w*nt to know the prioe of the real useful wife of this sort, of reliable color,. warranted to wash (Mondays), I can inform them, as my Celestial, Ah Sam, who dusts out my offioe, has recently imported one. Sam sent money to his mother, and. in due course of time the purchase ar rived, and Sam bronght her down for my inspection. She waa as ugly'a Chi nese woman as I-ever saw. - I* said, “ Sam, not bandsomo, eh ?” Sam says, “ Not handsome much; handsome gal cost heap money, and all time kick up —bobbery.” Sam had the oorrect idea of it, ana was wisely content with - a plain. article, that was moat likely to stay with him. Sam informed me that the original eoet, with freight and charges, waa 9300—all it- waa worth, if I am a judge of that specie« of goods, gained from a mild experienoe. . Hay-Xites. s Some time ago a large” number of horaea. died-in Nordhaim, Germany, from . inflammation of tha intestine#, the true cause'not at first being known., At laat it was aasigned'to the hay, in which, upon close examination, an im mense number of microeoopie an ¡mal e s ! « ; were, foand.-.They belonged to the genus acaru* fœ n a riut , to whieh the mites living on dry fruit and in eheeae also'belong..' l à Mmaa of horse disease it.’m ifht, therefore, be proper to nûéfoaeqpieally -a iamiaa, hay'land straw, i i i M even tk4 bast foddar, i f ! ■ ■ W a V V M S » H « M stoMd ia a damp plao>, is v irÿ lüely tii be iafaaled by tkeee and other penalise. V tmm m l Apf litd CAtm istry , An Aiiiericas lii ,l'«Na. P . A. Dockray, the Amerioan arrested in Cuba, writes a letter to a frieud in the United States., from whioh, ths folr lowing extract is taken : ', ** when I waa about to wnte yoti the order camo to plaoe me in the:< Presi dio ’ or ohain-gang. This. was; on the 19tti of August, at 'Puerto Principe. Again I attempted to send off some let ters, when'an order came for my imme diate. removal to Havana.’ ' .Was five days:only in the 'Presidio.’ ’ Enough time to amuse the officials at' the in dignity whioh they had time to-inflict on an American. I was ^chained with iron rings around both, ankles, riveted and hammered after they were put o n ; tbe'n a heayy chain ran up between the legs to my Viiist'donnected, with 'the rings'. -*At the waist it wa* ' fcsld b t 'a leather strap around the’body. ' Add to this a sort of Siamese arraugoment in the ahapo of-another iron chain ; which hitchod me to another fellow, from hip to hip.' Then, to till' tho measure' of insult, my hair was' aroppod and lace clean shaved. I have hoard of embalm ing the human body aftor. tho .fashion of Pharoah’s undertakers some thous ands of ages ago, but' next to being swaddled iu linen and gum, or next to a crusador'it coat of mail, oomes t he uni form and equipment of a ‘ Presidio ’ iu a Spanish prison., Ordinary orimihals aro chaineu ’li'y one log only. An nssRB- sin or robber is lucky. But a political bandit— csjwciijJ.'ijMie is au American —gets both legs manaolcd, his stomaoh ohained to his feet, and in very danger ous oases, like mine, he is pinned to another fellow's hip; and one is bound to serve the othert iu every' movement ho makes. What a luxury in this coun try to love liberty. * , *' ' .* I f you look into’; tho ‘ Presidio ’ you 'would see at night two long .rows of mannikins—150—stretched out with thoir feot toward each other, aud a ‘ cabo’ or corporal walking guard in tlio passago between. All the legs are manaclod, and the jingling of so many irons was enough' to upset one’s nerves in tho five days I spent iu. the, cago. I was refused a mattress; only allowed a pillow and a couple of blankets, but I managed to get my meals without being forced to eat tho rations. “ On the steamer' from' Nuevitas to Havana all this iron framework was re moved, tho rivet heads put aftor patient pounding, and I felt liko a balloon with all the'sand bags ohitckod out, roady to spring up to any unknown height from the\ relief of the weight. I was in Ha vana but ono night, when the Consul- General came and said I was. to go to. Spain next day in tho regular mail' steamer, aud so I did. As wo passed Moro at sundown on Sunday, the 30th of August, tho Moro CaBtlo, from New, York, steamed in. My God I I belicvo I would have risked a jump if sho had been going the other way. I never ap preciated before to what.extent one’s affcotion for a flag—for any symbol— may be warmed aid kindled.’ Sept 1G, at 7 a . Jf., tho steamer made entranoe of Santander.1. Wo passed through dark, narrow, gloomy Htroets, with great stone buildings' four, five and six .stories high, undor a low stone archway,’,up a dark,- rickety, rotton stairway, «moiling of age, decay,-vermin, cobwebs, snd tho gassos of a urinal pervading the whole prison. I was put in tho third story— alone, in my room—all around Carlist prisoners. From'the window I could look.down into a small courtyard and soe the narrow-grated windows of a dungoon below the level of the yard. I folt muohly like Mark Twain’s Arabian steed—felt as if I would like.to lean up against something and think. -’ “ But barring all further narrative, onr Minutor at Madrid promptly re sponded to my telegram, and on Sun day the Secretary of Legation spent some hours with me on his return to Madrid from Paris. He thinks my case is all right, and only patienco will be required to bear with the slowness'of Spanish authorities. , [ am expecting daily to be removed to the castle of San Francisco.” - The Three Sieves. “ Oh, mammal” cried little Bella, “ I ’ve heard such a story about Edith Howard I I didn’t think sho would be so naughty. One ----- “ M y dear,” interrupted Mrs. Phil lips, “ btforo you continue we shall soo if your story will pass the three sieves.” ;. •, “ What does that- mean, mamma?’’ inquired Bella. , ‘ ‘ I will explain it. In tho first place, Is i t true 1\ ‘ “ I suppose so. I got it from Miss White, and sho. is a great friend of Edith’s.” , ■ , “ And does she show her friendship by telling tales ot her? In tho next place, though you can prove it true, Is it kind >” “ I did not mean it to be unkind, mamma; but I am afraid it was. I should not like Edith to havo spoken of me aa I did of her.’’ • “ And, Is it nccessary t ” “ No, of oourse not, mamma; there was no need for me to speak of it at all.” - “ Then put a bridal on your tongue, dear. I f we cannot speak, well of our friends, let us not speak of them at all.” What rfe W u A fte r .. i A remarkable case was brought be fore thn Enfield magistrates in Eng land. A German named Halfmann was charged with begging, but the sur rounding circumstance« proved that tha defendant wto no ordinary vagrant. Papers found upon him showed that ha was ' searching for. an inheritance of forty-five million francs. With this ob ject in view, he had traveled ovar half tha .continent, had corresponded with tlie Belgian and Dutch Governments, and had addressed a long statement to Queen -Victoria, who, through Sir Thomas Biddulph, exprassed'her re*' gret that sha could not personally- in-, terfore, and advised the man to consult some respectable solicitor. The msna> träte« each gave the poor fellow half a sovereign and > dismissed tbe aharga of .vagrancy. A gentleman who roprmet- ad tha Charity . Organisatipn Boeie^jr undertook\ to 'oring the' matter \bsfoca tha Datch Ambaaaador aad tha Q i f U Legal Aid Asaosistta«. Twe Slads of Farmer», fo r rest., Moreland, \of ' Heuvelton, N. Y., iu writing-ioTihò Cxnimry, Gen tleman says . The-farm of-the'careless,!sk>thf01, i mdr« pla: Mr.''A., while dntinjf * poor toatt at tached to- an inferior draaf by a maH- cious'harnets, whioh had already taken its revenge, on the poor animals t by galling in numerous places, suddenly strikes 'a 'tone and breaks , the drag, lofig sinoe deserving a pension for aen- ous injuries. • To quote Mr. A.'a own words, “ This is just my; luck.” .. In fact, as fast as his tools grow old from too muoh’exposure to the weather and lack of suitable bare/ it is just his luok td havo them breaking when he is; in a burry. - This ¡by no means unoommon accident fii.tniijliee a respite for - the horses, and s. joutf&ey to Mr, A.’s fa vorable haunt-^the blacksmith’s, shop. -Passing farmer B.’s well fenced and highly 'cultivated farm;\ he .observed sovcral yottng men' also engsged'in preparing the soil and sowing grain, but iu quito a different style. One. .is driving a well-kept, team hitched to the cultivator on which he was, riding.'' It is an' improved implement,- which has frequently caused Mr.: A. to Wander “ wliy on airth Mr. D, wants to pay so inuoli for a,.cultivator whbu a drag is jest as good.” Thd cultivator leaves the ground' iu Tgood condition for the improved grain, d r ill' seen iu another portion, ot tne Held; still .another in vention; aa Mr. A. maintains, for mak ing lasy farmers, He “ allers believed in larnin’- boys to sow by hand, as their fathers snd grandfathers did before' them.\ Mr. A.’s.boys loft him years ago to learn trades. It was easier for the devout Hindoo to pass tho linos,of oaste than for Mr.’ A.’s boys to over come their father's overweening eonfi- deuoe in the, agricultural loro of the past, or pass the boundary linos that separated their oonditiou from that of the more fortunate sons of Mr. B.— boundary lines that liodgod them in, warping their very souls, until they wore dnvon in disgust from a vocation thoy should have learned to lovo. , The substantial fonoo that separatos Mr. A.’s farm from that of Mr. B.’s is second only to the strong line of con trast. that separates them to their far- thorest extent. On the oils' hand, a farm well laid out and oonvonient in all its arrangements ;- a farm well tilled find susceptible of tho highest cultiva tion. On tho- othor hand, a farm that was nover permanently laid, out, but. is. laid but anew, yoar after year; to suit' tlio conveniences • aud varying tasto of tho owner. “ Variety is tho ■ spice of life,” and. Mr. A. has only to look at his farmland the vibw,tliore is so muoh vnrioty in it) should make him fee) quito spicy. The variety in the shapes of hia difTeront fields . is simply as tonishing, nis fields are .regular and irregular; angular, triangular,' and quadrangular. No two of his fields are alike. • In one the stones havo broken his. plow and his drug ; have worried his team aud teamstor yoar after year. “ But,” says Mr. A., “ it never did pay' to give 'that 'ere field an extra work; it don’t give half a crop any way.” / The result is • that those stones get a permanent lotting alono. In anothor there is aa obvious want of underd raining, and Mr. A. has “ hearn somethin’somewhere 'bout underdrains, but never raaly did believe in thia 'ere fancr , farmin’.” Mr. , A.’s farm is devoid of all that pleascs tho eye or the, pockot of the intelligent farmer, for' his orops are’1 so poor that they do not pay for even his poor cultivation. “ Season« are gettin awful onsartin,” says Mr. A. ; in t fact, seasons do not deem to'be as good for Mr. A.’s farm since he began selling his hay and grain instead of feeding it on the farm. Mr. A. is a praotical (?) farmer. Mon of his stamp are found in overy farm ing community. They have been un fortunately plaoed on farms, and they stay there. The world moves; they do not ■ , ,, _____ . _______________ Very Badly Wanted. Now that grapes are beginning to fail in tbe markets, says tho New York Ilepublic , it is singular that none of our home growers of this delioions fruit imitate their brethron in foreign lands, and paok some of their grapes in cork sawdust or some other dry mate-, rial that will preservo them for later, use than November. While tho season for grapes lasts the domand'is enor mous, and much delight and comfort’ are experienced at tho family dinner table at their presence. But the sea son is so short that grapes soon disap; pear through decay, and a great sonroe of revenue i* thus lost Madeira grapes are to be had, of oourse, but they are too expensive for general use in Ameri can homes, thereforo it is surprising that our vineyards do not hit upon seme inexpensive' method of keeping grapes tor use through the winter mouths. Cork chips must be abundant where so many factories exist, and as thoy are evidently unsalable, a supply of cork dust ought to be easily obtain ed. We believe that cork dust is tha only thing suitable, because it is so dry ia texture that no' dampness or mold can reach the fruit thus preserved from the air. Next ‘year let something be done in this way, for it must prove • success. _____________________ _ A Veto.—Recently a telegraph elerk in France refused to transmit a men age in these words: “ Third Epistle of John, verses 13 aad 14,” under tha law which forbids the transmission o f dis patches not written ia plain language. Ileferenoe to the text indioates that tha dispatch was merely an economy of words. The text is aa’ follows ; “ I have many things to write, bnt -I will not with ink and pea write unto tbaa; but I trust I shall shortly see thee, aad we shall speak faoe to faoe. A man on Long lalaad, fasaoua itot his hogs, wss asked what was the sec««* of his suoeess. He answered : .“ I al- ways choose a good-natured pig. Thoee that when they eat are oonetautly-run ning from one. trough .to. another: and knocking their ,wouta against tbanaw. p ig'I sell.to,my naighbor,. who, doa’i kupw^Mtsr than tobay sooh.taranM^-' soma animals, while my santsm gat f a t \ ’- . - J ’-v-- Ito * * at Interest; ' , Several Western papers have joined in ‘ condemnation - o f; tbe ¡offering ot priaes at .fairs for. the best.equestrians, M.they say th e . exercise is t o o trying anà ÏÜ1* moat o f tha. women engaged in i t •- i .1 ; Now is tha proper seaaon.of the year to get np donations for. your minister and. cany, him a few. pound« of dried apples, a bushel of potatoes aud throe yards of eotton, and damage his house to the extent of 180. ^ .. Many stories are told of.,the, innate .cruelty,of Lattin, who is under, arrest for murdering « giil in Bridgeport. H j is said to have;ent off.the paws .of, doga - and applied, turpentine to th e , «tump, for,the pleasure of torture.; , J; , > i., A travclor likens Santa ..Fo, r.No^ Mexioo, as seen from tlïà approaches on the north, to an immense brickyard,.all ready for the burning, one solitary red brick house lemming up above the acres of- òne-story*s!dobé bmldingsV '• ' ’ * A 1 lecturer,' wishing to explain to a little girl the manner in.whioh « lobster casts his shell when he hss„outgrown it, said : “ What do you do when yon have outgrown your clothes? YbTTTBWIT\’ them1 aside, don’t you?”- ‘ fOh.l no,\ replied the little one ; 11 wo lot out,tho tucks.” ., ' . t • •' . * , Four,ohildren wero lately born at,« birth—two o f them.alive—in tlio parlali of Ousop, Herefordshire, England. -The eunte wi ites thst the father, a toll* keeper in tpoor oironmstsnoes, aud. who has already four ohildron to provido for, though natnrally confusod. aeems grateful.” - '■ - , ’ “ ; On the Amoor river thoy have:a queer plan .of performing ■ capital oxocntions. They give the oulprit Chinese brandy, until ho,becomes unoonscious.and theu thoy bury him alive.' Bofbro' lio rooov- erii consciousness'' ho is, o f 'conrse,- smothered by the earth, and so it ì b a meroiful. plan; ' , • :i ■ A S t Jjonis woman,. separated from hor husband;.recently sent him. a. long list of propositions, upon his aooeptanoe of whioh she'would live with him again'.- Woman-like she indioated the only reali oause.ol difference in a, postscript, as follows: Yonr .mother must, loavo tho house at once'and forever.” Tho China boys, who attended the: Mission School in Sail Frahcisoo,:'h»vo for some time been -greatly annoyed', aud scrionaly threatened by .a lot of. Chinese about their own ago, who op-. ]>ose thoir attending the school or lnarn-' ing onr langnago aud oustoms. They liave frequently gone so far as-threaten) them with stioks and knives,. .. w ,,A Donver lady.was going to.a raillin- or’s one evening .lately by; moonlight,, and on passings place where lier flgurd,’ oast » good shadow,- she was astonished ’ to boliold that-it wore no hat.' .Clap*., ping her haud.s to hor hesd, lo,.and bo- Iiold there was no hat thore. She was oonfident that she started from home woaring a new ton-dollar hat, but al-'-' though she immediately rotraced her steps, tbe i lo B t article was not fonnd,, and has not been aeon by her since. A true story. Children are Very apt to think» groat’ deni more of art illustration than of tho truth it was intended'-to illustrate. A teacher onoe. endeavored, t o , illustrate faith thus,: “ Children, il I should toll you' that one day I saw' a monkoy climbing a'liberty-polo, would yon be lieve it?” “ Yes, sir,” unanimously. .“ Well, that is faith ; you .beliove mo because I say it, and you feel suro that I would not tell an untruth.\ The next day the'qnestion'was asked-''of tho same ohildren, “ .What is faith.?!’ \ A monkey climbing a liberty-pole, ’ an swered a.quick littlo boy. . Sack a Swindle. The Norwich Bulletin relates a» curi ous story of the defrauding of the Nor wich and New York line of boats by a skillful swindler. Whi|e tho' Church • Congress was in session in New York, am anwholookedevery inch.au Epis- oopal clergyman, called at the Now York office ot the, Norwich line and wanted to make arrangements for tho transportation of six' hundroil Episco pal clergymen and laymen; belonging in New England, to Boston. There ensued a suitable amount of discussion andot telegraphing to .tho railroad men ' in Norwich, and at length' a' bargain was struok for carrying the aix hundred ; at (3 per man, the,agent to receive GO cents per tioket as his commission, amounting to $300. ’He then paid for the ticket« with a cheek for $1,800, •• signed Wm. E. Dodge, and they paid » him bis commission. Timo came for the boat to leave, bnt not tho GOO. Not one of the great sir hundred were forth- • coming, and the ideas dawned with startling rapidity in close succession upon the minds of the steamboat offi cials. The check, was fonnd to b e 'a forgery,bnt the forger haa so far escaped •’* capture._______; ______________; \ * ' .... What Tbey WIll Hal*. ' A quarter-inch rod of the best steel will sustain 9,000 pounds before break ing soft steal, 7,000. pounds; .iron wire, 6,600; iron 4,000 ; inferior bsr ,, iron 2,000; east iron,’ liQOO to 3,000 ; ' cooper wire, 3,000 ; silver, 2,000 ; gold, 2,600; tin, 3,000; cast sine;'160; cast - ' lead, CO; milled lead, 300.. O f wood, . box and locust the same sise, will.hold v 1,200 pounds ; toughest ash, 1,000 ; elm,., ; 800; beech,'oedar, white oak. pitch\; pin«, 600 ; ebaatnut and maple, 640 - poplar, 400. Wood which will ,’baar a heavy weight for a minute or ,twa -will- - break with twa-thirds the forca, ««tin g . a long tima. A rod of iron is about1'' tan timaa aa ateong aa -hemp aord. ’-A-- rope aa inchin diameter will bear about. ; two and a half tona ; bnt in practice it ;. is not safe'to subject it to a strain^of ... more than about one ton. H a lf 'an:/ inch in diasaeter-the strength-will be., - one-quarter as much ; a quarter of an.;: mch,;one-sixteenth «smuch, and ao.on.,-;,- -• ^ ---- : --- — ------- ~rrT Z '- '- > I ir Rdsbiko.—Says the Cincinnati Tim e t: . , Mrs. Vibbard suggeated, in the Obieago- Wbmaa’a Convention, that tbe dangs* -■ e f wearing.aa«a«t«-be-obviated^by.the ladi*«.havi>g tbair hn«teadacimb t k w £
